


Holy Shit The English Teacher Dad

by insertcreativeao3namehere



Series: blue is bram is blue [1]
Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: (of sorts), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blue is Bram is Blue, Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene, What-Ifs (Plural), the reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 02:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcreativeao3namehere/pseuds/insertcreativeao3namehere
Summary: Blue is Bram is Blue, Part I. The Reveal, remixed.Part I in a series of alternative ways that Simon could have found out that Bram is Blue at different points in the novel. Each instalment can be read as a standalone.The fact that Bram's dad is an English teacher who happens to just have visited comes up in lunch table conversation.





	Holy Shit The English Teacher Dad

**Author's Note:**

> So, I read this book two days ago. Started and finished. In one sitting. I've never been this inspired to write fic before, let alone this quickly...
> 
> I actually read reviews on Goodreads first, and one of them spoiled the identity of Blue for me. So all through reading, since I knew it was Bram, I kept distracting myself by imagining "what if the reveal happened here". The real way it happened was totally satisfying, but hopefully these alternatives are fun too.
> 
> I could have waited until they were all written and posted this as a oneshot, but I wanted to get the first one out there, because for once I've actually finished something that can be read as standalone. So I'll go one at a time instead. First up: what if an obvious enough clue came up in conversation?
> 
> EDIT: The second instalment ran away from me and ended up quite a bit longer than this one, so I've decided to change it into a series of oneshots instead of each oneshot being a chapter of the same story. I've also changed the name of the story, and "blue is bram is blue" is now the name of the series.

  * **i. clues in conversation (or, Holy Shit The English Teacher Dad)**



 

The lunch table is abuzz with generic Monday how-was-your-weekend conversation, and to be honest I’m barely tuned in. My mind wanders predictably back to its favourite topic of Thinking About Blue.

 

“What about you, Bram, anything exciting?” Abby asks offhandedly.

 

“Oh, um, yeah, actually,” Bram of the awkward silences and two-word responses says in response, shrugging. “My dad came down for a visit, which was, um, nice.”

 

“Oh, man, did he grill you for English essays?” Garrett cuts in, and then turns to inform the rest of the table, “Bram’s dad’s an English teacher, which makes me super grateful to just have parents who make you _do_ your homework, not actually like, read it and judge it themselves.”

 

I think my heart actually stops. It’s not a particularly familiar sensation. It stutters to a grinding halt and then decides to start beating again twice as hard and twice as fast, as if to make up for it. I think I can feel it in my ears? It’s weird.

 

English teacher dad. Visited on the weekend.

 

Could it be?

 

I feel like I’m having a crisis which should be immediately obvious to everyone else at the table, but no one else seems to have noticed. Bram isn’t looking at me – isn’t looking at anyone, really, and he seems kind of twitchy. I can probably count the amount of times I’ve heard him say a sentence that long on one hand.

 

“That’s gotta be rough,” Nick says sympathetically.

 

My throat feels sort of like sandpaper, and my voice _definitely_ sounds like the sandpaper is hoarsening it right up (is that even a word? Hoarsening?) but the words sort of spill out anyway: “At least you’re really good at English, huh.” Weird, noticeable, embarrassingly transparent emphasis on the ‘really’.

 

Several pairs of eyes swivel towards me at once, Bram’s included. He looks at me for a second, dead on, and I feel like my face being approximately two hundred degrees and my sandpaper voice and my general unsmooth demeanour _must_ be giving me away.

 

I continue digging myself into a nice little hole before anyone else can say anything, ostensibly talking to the whole table but still looking at Cute Bram Greenfeld because I can’t quite look away. “Mr. Wise gave me his paper accidentally the other day, I’m sure his dad would be happy with _that_ grade.” The table-at-large laughs, in some kind of acknowledgement or agreement or commiseration, and no-one still seems to have noticed how weird and twitchy and practically incoherent I am.

 

Except Bram.

 

He looks right at me again, and then immediately looks away when he sees I’m still staring, his dark skin all adorably flushed. He stutters out a thanks, and the table’s attention is diverted by… something. I’m not paying enough attention to notice what’s now occupying everyone else’s attention. Bram is staring at the table like it’s the most interesting thing he’s seen all day.

 

My heart is pounding hard enough that I’m surprised no one else can hear it, even though that’s… not actually how science works, I know that. That’s a fanfiction cliché that I appear to have somehow internalised into my own inner monologues. Or something. Maybe I don’t outwardly look as unsmooth as I feel.

 

Blue hasn’t replied to my last email yet, but I’m pretty sure he would’ve read it by now. I sent it on Sunday afternoon, it’s Monday lunch. There’s an easy way for me to confirm my suspicions, if I can muster up the guts.

 

“Mr. Wise says I have a thing about sentence fragments.” I let the sentence – is it fragmented? It’s probably fragmented, how ironic – hang in the air. His eyes snap up to meet mine, and they hold this time, and my heart continues trying to escape my chest.

 

“It’s you,” Bram says.

 

The bell rings, and the world keeps spinning on its axis, or whatever.

 

I get another email that night. Blue - who is Bram, Bram is Blue, oh my god - tells me all about how he “goes totally silent in front of cute guys.” And how he can’t believe I told him who my English teacher was. And then... how he can’t believe the secret is out, and we both know, but the cat’s out of the bag now, and there’s no turning back, and... maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

 

I lay back, holding my phone to my chest, and I can't help but smile. I don’t quite know what’s going to happen from here. Neither of us have even managed to come out to anyone yet. But, even though I'm nervous beyond belief, I still can’t wait to find out.

 

Cute Bram Greenfeld. Now that I know, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write in first person present tense, so trying to emulate Simon's voice was a little bit of an experiment. 
> 
> Still to come: Simon Finds The Note With The Phone Number Sooner, Bram Asks Nick and Abby Where Simon Is At The Carnival And Simon Overhears And The Penny Drops, and more.


End file.
